


Fred

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23169394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When “we” became “me”





	Fred

**Author's Note:**

> First ever posted fic, I hope you enjoy !

It was a peaceful evening at the burrow, a Sunday evening to be precise. The birds were settling in for the night, their soft chirping helping the whole house settle. The three eldest Weasley brothers lacking in attendance, George, Angelina, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny sat in the living room comforted by the fire and Molly and Arthur’s quiet murmurs of speech from the kitchen. Like I said, peaceful.  
It was a peaceful evening at Hogwarts, a Sunday evening to be precise. Sitting on the grass not too far from the quidditch pitch, Fred, Roxanne, James, Hugo and Rose were all at Hogwarts enjoying the Sunday off. Albus had been with them earlier but had left with Scorpios some time earlier to the Slytherin dorm. The sun was just beginning to fall asleep and the sky blazed orange and pink. The quiet lapping of the lake against the shore calmed the children. Like I said, peaceful.

Until, Fred pulled out his Afro comb. Something he did a lot, his hair was often untidy from all the running around he did. His cousin, James leapt up and snatched it off him, a playful grin on his face. “Give it here James” said Fred, the same playfulness in his voice.  
“You know what,” said James a sly grin creeping,” I don’t think I will”.  
The boys chased each other as the others giggled and watched them. James being a lot younger and smaller then Fred lost rather quickly, Fred simply chased him to the outskirts of the quidditch pitch and cornered him. Then proceed the pluck the comb out of James’s sweaty hands. At the same moment, some Hufflepuff third years were having a practice duel across the lawn. One of them fired a stupefying spell and the other ducked, the spell rebounded and hit Fred in the back of the neck. This caused him to fall over forwards, James scared of being squashed moved out of the way. And with a deafening sound, Fred’s head hit the side of the pitch and his neck gave a sickening crunch.  
For a moment no one moved. The Hufflepuff had failed to notice the damage and continued duelling and laughing. However the Weasley-Potter clan was in a state of shock. Roxanne stood up and sprinted towards her brother, the rest following suit. James fell to his knees next to Fred head in hands.  
“We have to get him to the hospital wing” said Hugo, this was met with the continued stunned silence.  
“NOW” squealed Rose. This snapped everyone out of their stupor. Blinded by tears Roxanne offered to carry his legs and Rose helped, Hugo and James took his top half, all sporting a pale green colour

At the burrow tea had been handed out, the chirping of the birds outside was just beginning to fade slowly when it was interrupted by the hooting of an owl. An official looking owl landed on the windowsill of the burrow carrying a letter in scarlet ink. It rapped twice on the window of the kitchen and waited.It appeared Molly and Arthur had departed to the garden. Before anyone else could offer, Angelina stood up, she hushed Harry’s protest about collecting it and bustled off to the window with her tea still in hand. From the living room the opening of a window and the flutter of feathers could be heard. The tearing of an envelope was then followed by silence. Ron looked up from the tea in his lap curiously, and George craned his neck failing to see through the door.  
“Honey?” He called to no avail, “Love?” He spoke again with more concern. The shattering of a mug and a scream was all that could be heard next. George rushed into the kitchen followed swiftly by the others. The floor was covered in fragments of smashed mug and brown tea. Angelina stood wailing softly and looking at the letter in her hands with unbelieving eyes. Molly and Arthur having heard the ruckus walked in through the back door.  
“Love?” George said again softly, cleaning up the mug and spilt tea with a swift wave of his wand. The rest of the room stayed silent, breathes baited in anticipation. “What’s up Honey?” George questioned concern turning to worry, just as he was about to pry the letter from Angelina’s grip she spoke in less than a whisper but George heard. Oh dear, he heard.  
“It’s-Its Fred” she chocked, “something’s happened he’s- he’s been hurt-“ she looked up at George  
” it’s bad George, it’s bad.”  
The realisation of what was happening hit George slower than it hit everyone else. Ginny let out a muffled sob and buried her face in Harry’s shoulder, Ron eyes brimmed over with tears. However George just stood his had gripping his wand, then as if he’d walked through a ghost, a terrible mix of fear, dread and grief filled George’s face. The contortion of all of these emotions at once, made an awful site of sadness to behold.  
Suddenly George burst out,” We’re apperating there, right NOW”  
“But” Hermione said carefully,” you- you can’t apperate onto Hogwarts grou-.”  
“Then we’ll apperate as close as possible and WALK!” George exclaimed fear and anger in his eyes. Him and Angelina spun away, closely followed by the other three couples. 

Back at Hogwarts, standing impatiently outside the hospital wing stood five terrified looking Gryffindor students- friends of Fred’s, all of Fred’s cousins looking like he was already dead for sure and Roxanne. Roxanne who know her father may be arriving and second and couldn’t wait. Roxanne who needed a shoulder to cry on, needed someone to be her Fred right now. Inside the hospital wing was a dreaded sight. A boy once with full chocolate skin lay, sprawled onto a hospital bed. His skin now the shade of a watery muddy puddle. Madam Pomfrey didn’t dare revive him for the pain it may cause. The boys neck sat a strange angle, at a first look maybe not so peculiar but on a seconds closer inspection one would notice to bones edging out the skin and the way his eyes protruded ever so slightly. There is of course spells to mend broken bones and potions to grow them back however the task was long and painful. And the nurse just wasn’t sure how long the boy had left. His wheezing breath was slow but sure just as his heart beat. Madam Pomfrey paced at a scary speed preparing herself for what she’d have to tell the boys father and mother when the arrived. 

As if summoned by thoughts of them George and Angelina stormed through the hospital wing doors, giving glimpses of other parents reassuring their children that cousin Fred was going to be just fine, he had to be. Roxanne followed suit behind her parents, quiet and worried her eyes flicking everywhere. When George made his way through the infirmary to Madam Pomfrey and his sons bed he fell onto his knees head on the mattress.  
“Have you done everyt-“  
“Mr Weasley”  
“I mean is ther-“  
“Mr Weasley!”  
“Please I just want to know yo-“  
“I’m doing everything I can but you can not be in here at this point in time!” Madam Pomfrey had a look of sympathy on her face but an annoyance was there too. Angelina stood silent, gripping her little girls hand and staring at her little boys neck. Her precious little boy.  
“There is a chance, and right now I’m not sure how slim or large, that your son is not going to make it Mr Weasley.” Said Madam Pomfrey, a tear followed by another slipping down her old cheek. She was recalling all the shenanigans that had put the man in front of her and another Fred Weasley into this very infirmary many times before. As she hurriedly rushed the family out she thought of all the impossibly difficult injuries those two had come in with. The burns and the boils and the broken bones. But she’s always fixed them had she not? Had she not helped them in there time of need, and all those students through out the time of the Chamber of Secrets being reopened? And of course a certain chosen one showed almost every year after some great feet of danger. But all those children, she’d helped them. She couldn’t give up, not on this child, not on any child. And so she set to work.

Outside Ron and Harry we’re trying to calm a George in hysterics. When he wasn’t crying an empty far gone sort of look entered his eyes. It worried them greatly and so they continued to reassure him that it would be okay, that Fred would be okay. They were sure of it.  
“It’s okay George,” Ron said, putting a tentative hand on George’s shoulder.  
“Yeah it is Mate, Fred is going to be fine.” Said Harry, desperately filling his voice with as much truth as he could muster.  
“But he’s n-he’s not” spluttered George  
“ He will be,” said Ron sounding more certain.  
“You don’t get it do you!” scorned George tears burning the back of his throat and his eyes,” Fred’s not fine, he’s not” that empty far gone look had returned,” I can’t loose him-“  
“ You won’t, we’re sure of it,”said Ron again, tears brimming his eyes again.  
“I can’t loose him,” George continued as if no interruption had taken place, “I can’t loose him, not Fred, not again.” George stood, the far of empty look getting graver and darker, let a single tear slide down his cheek and went back to his hysteric pacing. Chanting it like a mantra, “I can’t loose him, not Fred, not again”  
He didn’t need to explain, Harry and Ron understood completely what he meant. George couldn’t loose another Fred Weasley, no one could. George’s memories of Fred lying in the great hall, blood everywhere flashed back into view and his fist pounded the side of his head. Another image, Fred laughing at Kings cross ‘Only joking I am Fred’. George pounded his fist to his head harder, another image, this time one of his son, young and innocent sitting on an armchair three sizes to big, pointing out a picture of his dad. Asking why there were two of him. He pounded his head over and over again. Only Angelina dared try to stop him, walking over to grab his wrist and to hug him and whisper sweet nothings when she realised she wouldn’t be able to keep up the positive facade. Because she couldn’t bare to loose another Fred either. The day she had given birth to her baby boy and named him Fred II was one of the happiest days she’d ever lived. She recalls dancing with Fred at the Yule ball, he kept her on her feet all night, every song had a new groove and new move to try out. Fred, who was never one to take things seriously, had given Angelina a genuine compliment at the beginning of the ball, ‘You look amazing, I hope you now that Johnson” it was one of the most touching moments she ever had as a child. So no, even she couldn’t keep pretending she’d be okay if this went south. Because not only could she not bear the loss of her son, she couldn’t - COULD NOT- loose another Fred Weasley, not one with such a joking, loving, funny, perfect personality. So much like the last one.  
Molly Weasley stood quite still and calm at the back of the passage to the Hospital wing. Her eyes were closed gently and she thought about her grandson. Not another Fred, though he was involved and intertwined in the memories, she did not focus on him. Because Molly Weasley had learned, over years of toughening, (much like Harry had) to separate out her grief. The Fred Weasley she’d lost long ago was always in her mind, always loved. However this Fred Weasley was just as amazing and deserved a whole palace of room in her mind, just like her son had. She thought of picking Fred II up when he was only a little tiny thing and changing his first nappy, hearing his first words, laying him down in his cot, putting him to sleep, sending him off to Hogwarts, helping him with girl troubles. And Molly Weasley was calm- full of a grief- however calm, for she new wether she had her grandson back or not she would be okay. And she could fill his palace.

A day later, Fred Weasley was sent home two weeks early. The Easter holidays were almost upon them but due to his prior accidents he was permitted early leave. He arrived home to so much love and affection he was sure he was dreaming. Living in the burrow was a caring thing most of the time but this was beautiful. Informed on the life and death situation he’d been in, Fred soaked in the adoration with a new found warmth, a warmth stronger than any he had felt before. This warmth stemmed from the hug his father had given him when he arrived home. Stronger and filled with more desperation than any hugs before, his dad held onto him tight and whispered low enough so that he thought only he could hear.  
“ I couldn’t loose you Fred, not again.”

THE END.


End file.
